


Anachronistic

by lipah



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Bursts of Memories, Canon-Typical Violence, Cecil is Inhuman, Desert Bluffs, Eldritch Abominations, Established Relationship, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos came to Night Vale to find out why so many people die in this little community. During his first day in Night Vale, he is met with a painfully familiar face, the face that prompted his whole mission in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 13,113 hours

**Author's Note:**

> Updated this chapter, because the second chapter was too short to be on its own.

“Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.” Carlos reached out, and flicked off his radio before the seven hour long marathon of white noise over top of ritualistic chanting could start. Carlos tapped a few times at one of the clocks he had sitting on his desk. Not that he was actually trying to find out what was wrong with time here, it had just been a good reason to come to Night Vale. The city counsel had needed to know _why_ a scientist would want to come to the town. What could possibly be SO interesting about their quiet little town?

What could be so interesting was the fact that Night Vale, with a population of just over 800 permanent residents, had more deaths then any other city in the country. The world, Carlos was sure, but he had actually checked yet. Of course, with the reaction to him just wanting to come to town, he figured that telling them the truth was out of the question. So, he told them that when he passed through Night Vale five years earlier, he had noticed some strange phenomenons. Which was true. He had noticed something going on with their clocks, he had noticed that it everything smelt like rotting meat when it was 12:13 in the afternoon, and he had noticed that when he cried in Night Vale small bird-like creature appeared and collected the tears. The city counsel had agreed to let him come to the town, and find out what was going on.

So he had rented out the only place available in town, and ended up setting up there. With him, he took five other scientists, all people he had gone to school with and worked with for years. Emma, a woman he had known since he was a baby, had pulled him aside as they unpacked in the new office. _“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she had whispered. Carlos looked at her, and then nodded his head._

_“Of course,” he had answered._

_“Did you read the paperwork these people needed? They wouldn't let us use pens, Carlos. Erik said, they told him that he could just cut his hand and write it out in his blood. They would provide the stick to write with!” Emma explained. She was met with a stern look, and then a long sigh._

_“You know, Emma, you know this is important. I-I need... I need to know,” he had said. His voice taking on a pleading tone that was honestly embarrassing._

_“Carlos that isn't fair!”_

_“Then go home, Emma, all of you wanted to come. I didn't ask, you told me that you were following me.”_

_“Because you're being an idiot,” James had piped in. Clearly they weren't being as quiet as he had hoped they were. James, who was Emma's husband, was emptying a box onto one of the tables._

_“I think it's brave,” Kaylie said from under another table. She was busy hooking up the computers. Naseer snorted from the door._

_“Well, there are enough rooms for us all,” Erik said as he came back into the room._

_“He's not being brave! What if we get killed?” Emma snapped._

_“Then we don't have to listen to you bitching anymore,” James said, grinning over at his wife. She threw her hands in the air, before grabbing two suitcases and going off to find a room. “She'll come around Carlos,” James had said, clapping his hand down on Carlos's shoulder._ That had been a year and a half ago. Emma and James had moved back to New York months ago. After Erik had been crushed under a mountain lion when trying to discover more about the glowing cloud. Naseer had almost moved back to NY when Kaylie had gone missing for a week, and returned ten years older with three children and a faceless husband. She moved into the house, next door to the house that didn't exist. Carlos visited her sometimes. She was happy. Naseer had stayed for one reason, and one reason only, and that was because of the voice of Night Vale.

Carlos had called a town meeting the night they arrived, as instructed by the city counsel, and he explained why he was there. Emma had seen him first, Naseer saw him next. Cecil was sitting two rows back, his eyes locked on Carlos. Emma had gasped out loud, Naseer moved to the front of the room and took over speaking for Carlos. Carlos noticed him when everyone was filling out of the building. Cecil didn't stand right away, and when Carlos finally looked at him. He had smiled at him, before getting up and leaving.

Carlos had thrown up in the trash can just outside.

When they got back to the lab, Kaylie had turned on the radio, and there was Cecil's voice. They all listened together in silence, until Cecil said _“and I fell in love instantly.”_ Carlos had started to cry then, and the others had all pretended not to notice.

“On his way over?” Naseer asked, from his work station.

“Mhmm,” Carlos answered, tapping on the clock again.

“I'm worried about you,” Naseer said. Carlos looked over at him, and frowned. Naseer said nothing for a few minutes, running his hand through his dark hair, and then sighing. “It's not healthy for you to be seeing him,” he finally said. “It's like you're living in some kind of dream.”

“You've seen him, Naseer. You've talked to him!” Carlos snapped, but he knew Naseer was right. It didn't make sense, Night Vale didn't make any sense.

“Stop seeing him, Carlos. You're going to go as crazy as this town,” Naseer snapped, pushing his chair away from his table. “I'm leaving tonight, Carlos. I can't keep watching this.”

“Leaving?” he asked.

“Emma and James offered me a room until I can find my own place. My stuff is packed and in my truck. I didn't know how to tell you, but I'm done.” Naseer got up and walked across the room, pulling open the front door, he gave Carlos a long look before shaking his head and leaving. Carlos wanted to argue with his friend, tell him that he was being unreasonable, but he didn't. He waited quietly until Cecil was knocking softly on the door.

“Hello,” Cecil said, once Carlos had the door open. His lips parting as he smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth that were razor sharp on the 8th of every month. The things was, that Carlos knew how crazy this was. He knew it the second he saw Cecil sitting in that meeting, he knew it when he heard Cecil calling him perfect, he knew it every time he heard Cecil's voice. He stopped caring the night he almost died. His heart swelled and ached when Cecil had come running into the parking lot. His white hair messy from running, his three violet eyes open wide, he was breathing heavily, and Carlos knew that no matter what happened from that moment on, he didn't care. The panic on Cecil's face was so familiar, a permanent memory, and even if it meant losing the people he worked with, he wouldn't lose Cecil.

Not again.

They had been dating for half a year now. They spent almost all their free time together. It wasn't uncommon for Cecil to fall asleep wrapped around Carlos. His tentacles clinging protectively to the scientists body, but they had never really been alone before. There had always been someone else in the lab, someone else sleeping close by. Carlos didn't spend time in Cecil's apartment, because the faceless old woman who lived there hadn't taken to him like Cecil had. Tonight, the two of them were sitting on a couch in the back room, Carlos had his arm draped lazily over Cecil's shoulders. Some television show he had never heard of playing on the screen in front of them. Carlos wondered if there was some kind of paperwork that needed to be filled out, he was sure there was. There always was. “Where is Naseer? He loves this program,” Cecil asked, shifted a little next to him.

“He went home,” Carlos said, tracing his finger along the side of Cecil's cheek.

“Oh, that's to bad,” Cecil said, but there wasn't any real disappointment in his voice. Cecil smiled and twisted on couch so he was cuddled closer. The realization that they were alone hit Carlos then. Well, as alone as anyone in Night Vale could be, of course. Carlos looked down at Cecil, just for a moment, before looking back up at the television. He realized suddenly, that the program wasn't even in English, but German. One of Cecil's tentacles was running along his arm, and the radio host seemed to be humming something in the back of his throat.

It was wonderfully familiar.

They watched the rest of the show in silence. Carlos rubbed patterns absentmindedly over Cecil's back. His hand finally coming to rest on the back of the other man's neck. The tattoo's that covered the radio hosts upper body, seemed to pulse with warmth that didn't belong to their host body. Carlos didn't move, even when the television switched to static. He could hear mumbling behind the white noise, an extension of the radio show that was currently playing, he guessed. Cecil had fallen asleep, his arms tucked carefully against Carlos's chest, and a tentacle wrapped around his thigh.

He wondered how long tonight would be, if the sun would stay set for a normal amount of time, or if it would be up again before he decided to move. In the end it was both. He didn't bother waking Cecil, as the man slept so rarely. Carlos felt himself drift off later, and woke to the sound of a horn blaring from somewhere below him. He jerk up on the couch, a lab coat draped over him, Cecil gone from his spot. He could hear him, moving around in the lab. Banging dishes, and mumbling to someone or something.

Carlos stretched out his arms, trying to force away the stiffness that came from sleeping on the couch. Then he went to the lab, stopping in the doorway to watch Cecil attempting to find something to cook. Or rather microwave, because the lab wasn't actually equipped with a working kitchen. “He never goes shopping,” Carlos heard a woman say. His own faceless old woman, he supposed. He didn't spend much time worrying about her.

“It's okay, I'm sure there is something,” Cecil mumbled.

“There most certainly is not,” she answered. Carlos leaned into the room, keeping quiet as he did. He couldn't see her, but there was a large shadow in one of the corners. He assumed she was hidden there. “Though he does have some lovely pictures of the two of you in that drawer there,” she informed Cecil, as he pulled open a mostly empty drawer on Carlos's desk.

“Oh?” he asked, grabbing the stack of pictures.

“Wait!” Carlos snapped. He stumbled forward into the room. Cecil looked up at Carlos, and smiled brightly at him.

“Good morning! I was looking for something to eat!” he informed him.

“Good, great even! Can I have those pictures? Thanks!” Carlos rambled. He snatched the pictures from Cecil's hands as he spoke. Cecil looked surprised, but it only lasted for a minute, and was replaced with another smile.

“Well all right,” he said, shaking his head. Carlos stuffed the photos back into his desk, and led Cecil across the lab.

“Why don't we have coffee, and then we can go out for breakfast?” Carlos asked. Cecil nodded his head, and flipped on the machine. It looked like Cecil had already forgotten about the photos as he set to his task of making the coffee. Carlos dropped down into a chair as he watched Cecil go into the dance that was required before any caffeine could be ingested for the day. Carlos glanced back into the dark corner where the faceless old woman may or may not still be hiding, before letting out a sigh.

The pictures were his most important possessions. They were memories of the life he had, had back home. He shook his head when Cecil placed a mug in front of him, and then started talking about a dream he had been having when he was woken this morning. “I was helping John Peters, you know, the farmer build a barn out of pens. Can you imagine? Well, the Sheriffs Secret Police woke me this morning, I got a ticket I'm afraid. Dreaming of illegal materials. I will have to do six hours of community service, which is easy enough, since I work for the community radio. But still. It might just be easier to re-educate the whole town, so we simply forget about pens all together. Don't you think?”

Carlos smiled a little, his lips barely parting to show Cecil his teeth. “It might be,” he answered, and the worry he had felt minutes ago slipped away from his chest. Carlos had never been through re-education, so when he agreed it was with a very vague idea of what would happen. He had always assumed it was some kind of memory wipe. He thought it was actually rather impressive that they could be able to do that here. Cecil smiled back at him, before he started listing off places they could go for breakfast. Today, Carlos didn't care where they went, didn't care what happened. He just wanted to spend it with Cecil, because soon he was going to have to leave for a while, and he wasn't ready for it yet.

 

_“Sometimes things seem so strange or malevolent, and then you find that underneath it was something else altogether. Something pure and innocent.”_


	2. Photos of Us

Carlos had the radio on in his lab, listening to Cecil's voice as he traced lines over a large map of the desert. He was currently ignoring his ringing phone, it had been ringing on and off for two days now. More often then not it was ringing, and without even answering it, Carlos _knew_ it was Emma. So, when the weather came on, and the phone rang again, Carlos broke down and answered it. He reached out snatching it off the table and snapping a sharp “Hello,” into the receiver.

 

“Finally!” Emma shouted back. Carlos heard a small cheer in the background that he guessed was from James and Naseer.

 

“What do you want?” he asked.

 

“I want you to come home!” she shouted.

 

“Emma, that's not going to happen,” Carlos told her. “I have work to do here and I have Cecil to worry about again.”

 

“He isn't your Cecil!” she shouted at him. “Your Cecil has been gone for five years, Carlos!” The words hung between them, and Carlos's first thought was how he hoped that today the Sheriff's Secret Police weren't listening in. Then he let out a long slow sigh.

 

“He's Cecil Baldwin, Emma,” he said softly.

 

“That town is making you crazy, just like it is. It's not natural Carlos.”

 

“You've told me,” he mumbled. Emma let out a disgruntled noise, and then snapped something he didn't understand at someone.

 

“You are going to die there! Naseer told us about the near death experience that you never mentioned, and the fact that Cecil has tentacles. The fact that there's a spider that lives in your bathroom, and greets you in the morning with a web that tells you your horoscope. How are you okay with this? No, don't answer me! You're just going to say Cecil. Carlos, listen to me, and listen carefully. Cecil died, more then five years ago. You _saw_ him. You buried him. For the love of god, Carlos _come back home._ ”

 

“Emma, there are two things that I'm sure of, now that I've lived in Night Vale,” Carlos said slowly. “The first, is that there is no god. Maybe there was at one point, but he's long dead. The second, is that I've _found_ Cecil, and I'm going to find out how he is here, and I'm never letting him go again.” Carlos didn't wait for her answer, he hung up the phone, and then promptly yanked the battery out of the back of it. He pulled open the drawer on his desk and removed the small pile of photos. Each one was of him and _his_ Cecil.

 

A man he met at school, with too blonde hair and impossibly blue eyes. A man who was embarrassed of his extensive tattoos the first time Carlos saw him naked. A man who had the perfect voice, but spoke so infrequently because he didn't want to bore anyone. A man who had found an article about triplet cities being built out in the middle of the desert, and how two of the cities had been swallowed by a sandstorm, while the third had sunk into the ground and vanished. Carlos remembered _his_ Cecil coming home with boxes of paper.

 

_“Have you ever heard of Night Vale?” he had asked. He dropped the first of many boxes onto the kitchen table._

 

_“Is it a new club?” Carlos asked slowly. He was busy, at the time, with his own homework. Cecil had laughed a little._

 

_“No, it was a town,” Cecil answered._

 

_“What's it now? A water park?”_

 

_“Haha, very funny,” Cecil had said, and rolled his eyes. He left the kitchen, but returned a few minutes later with two more boxes._

 

_“What's all this?” Carlos had asked. He waved his pen at the boxes, and raised his eyebrows._

 

_“All the information I could find. It's very fascinating. I think even you would enjoy it,” Cecil told him._

 

_“Oh?” Carlos had answered, but he wasn't paying attention. Cecil made two more trips to his car before pulling open one of the boxes and dropping a newspaper on top of Carlos's homework. “Hey!” he said, looking up into the smiling face of his boyfriend. “Okay! Okay! I will listen!” he held his hands up._

 

_“Look at this,” Cecil said, as he handed Carlos a map. It was large with three spots marked off on it. “These were the locations of the towns. Night Vale was this one, it was taken over by a sand storm. What I think is so interesting, is that I have talked to people who have been to Night Vale.” Carlos looked up at him and nodded a little._

 

_“And?”_

 

_“And, Night Vale, and all it's inhabitants were swallowed over 200 years ago,” Cecil said._

 

_“Okay... that's impressive,” Carlos mumbled. Cecil's grin grew wider, he pulled another newspaper out of the box and handed it to Carlos._

 

_“People claim to have been there as recently as earlier this year,” Cecil told him. Cecil took a red marker and circled the spot that was meant to be Night Vale. Cecil moved around the table, so he was standing behind Carlos. He leaned against his back, his arms over the scientist-in-training's shoulders.“I'm going to go,” he said after a few minutes of silence._

 

_“Your what?”_

 

_“I'm going to find Night Vale,” he said, and he sounded very sure of himself._

 

_“According to most of this, it isn't real...” Carlos mumbled._

 

_“Well, there is a chance all of this is bad reporting and Night Vale is right where it should be and it's just too small to appear on normal maps. In which case, all of this will be pointless, but I will go on a nice holiday,” Cecil said. Carlos huffed out a laugh._

 

_“I bet that it,” he said, and Cecil nodded._

 

_“There is a good chance that, that's all it is, but people talk about this place like it's something out of an HP Lovecarft story,” Cecil said. Carlos laughed again._

 

_“So, it's right up your alley,” Carlos said. He ran one of his hands along Cecil's exposed arm, tracing his fingers along the tentacle-like patterns on his skin. “So, if you go and find it, what then? Transferring to Miskatonic University?”_

 

_“You think you're so funny,” Cecil said, but he laughed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Carlos's head. “I'm going to learn everything I can about the place.”_

 

_“How did you even find this stuff?” Carlos asked._

 

_“Oh, that was actually pretty weird,” Cecil answered. “I was in the library and someone left it on top of my work when I went to get another book.” He dug into his pocket pulling out a small post-it note._

 

_'Looks interesting, huh Cecil?'_

 

_Carlos read the note a few times, like it might change in front of his eyes. “And that doesn't worry you?” Carlos asked._

 

_“Of course not, they were probably shy,” he told him._

 

_“Yeah, shy...” Cecil mumbled. He took the note out of Cecil's hand, and stuck it to the top of the map. “When are you leaving?”_

 

_“This weekend, my classes are done on Thursday,” Cecil answered. He tightened his arms around Carlos's shoulders, burring his face against his neck._

 

_“No way I can talk you into waiting until I'm done for the summer, is there?” he asked softly._

 

_“You still have two weeks,” he answered. “I just couldn't wait that long.”_

 

_“I know...” Carlos mumbled._

 

He had decided that he wasn't going to have a conversation like that again, not with _this_ Cecil. He wasn't sure that the radio host would be able to deal with it. He would have to put the battery back into his phone to make the call, he planned to leave the message on Cecil's answering machine at his house. He traced his finger along the winding road, that led to the other town that had been swallowed by the sand storm. He had _Desert Bluffs_ written in blue letters next to the spot. He had shown Cecil the map a few nights before, pointed at the spot, and asked him what it was. Cecil had choked on his breath of air, and shouted something about how awful that place was, and why would Carlos even want to know about it.

 

He folded the map and carefully tucked it into a file folder, which he pushed into a duffel bag. He had some spare clothing, about a months, in the back of his car. He took his last few supplies out and threw them on the passenger seat. He went back inside, to go through the lab and make sure everything was turned off. Then he took his phone from the table, popped the battery back inside it, and dialled Cecil's phone number. It rang three times before his answering machine picked up, _“You've reached Cecil Baldwin. I'm not here now, I'm probably at work, turn on the radio I'll be there. If you have any important information for me, please address it to the station. If this is the Sheriff's secret police testing phones again, my mailbox password is 227567. Have a good day!”_

 

Carlos took a deep breath before he was able to leave the message, he started out softly mumbling his words and feeling unfortunately guilty. “Hey Cecil, i-it's me, Carlos. I just needed to let you know, I'm going to be gone for a while. A month, I think. I'm going... I'm going to see Desert Bluffs. For science! I mean, I want to compare it to Night Vale, and I know you don't like them. I just need to see what's going on. I hope you aren't overly upset with me. I'll have my phone, but I'm not going to have it on that much. I've already gotten permission to go, and I have a place to stay...” he paused after his ramble. He took a few more deep breaths and swallowed hard, before pushing on. “Look Cecil, I know I've never said this before, and I really should have... I-I... Cecil, I love you. I really, properly love you. I'll make sure to tell you as many times as you need when I get home. I promise. Bye Cecil. Goodnight.” He hung up the phone, and quickly turned the phone off.

 

He let out a low groan, that was awful. He shook his head, raked his fingers through his hair a few times, and then he hurried out the door. He didn't bother locking the door to the lab, it was pointless, if someone wanted inside they would get inside. It was, after all, Night Vale. He climbed into his car, and started it. He gave his lab one last look, before driving toward the edge of town. There was only one road that would take him to Desert Bluffs. Only one road that could take anyone there. Anyone who wanted to reach the other town would have to first go through Night Vale, Carlos figured, that it mustn't have been a very popular destination. Once people had dealt with the insanity that was Night Vale, would would dare go to another town that supposedly doesn't exist.

 

According to his GPS it should take him three hours to arrive at Dessert Bluffs. According to the map, it should take him four weeks to arrive at the spot that was Dessert Bluffs. He hoped that his GPS was right, and not the map. He drove in silence for only a few minutes, flipping on the radio as he drove passed the station. Cecil's voice filled the car, he was reporting on something Old Woman Josie had told him. _“angel—she told me—has taken a liking to me. She said that this angel listens to all of my shows, with great pride. Well, even the angels listen into our show! How interesting is that? Hello dear angel!”_ The show wasn't on much longer, and he felt his throat tighten as Cecil wished Night Vale goodnight as he drove out of the town limits and into the desert. The radio switched to a poorly read performance of all 14 Gilbert & Sullivan plays including stage directions. He turned the radio down, but left it on for some noise.

 

He was almost alone on the highway, aside from the ghost cars that sped around him. He pressed down on the gas to keep pace with them, despite the recommendation against that course of action. He glanced on and off at the GPS he had stuck to his windshield, the green line instructed him to drive straight. Just drive straight. In the bottom corner it promised a town eventually, it skipped from three hours to 14 hours, and back to three. Even as the clock in his car ticked through the first three hours, he found himself wondering if he would find anything at all.

 

He had seen no real proof of Desert Bluffs at all. Nothing besides a few sporting events, descriptions from Night Vale residents, and one strange broadcast during the sandstorm last year. He was in the middle of singing along to 'I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General' using the words from 'The Elements by Tom Lehrer', when one of the ghost cars slammed on it's breaks. Even though his logical mind knew that he wouldn't be hurt, he still slammed on his breaks. His car tried it's best to slow down, but then—mimicking the ghost cars movements—it spun sideways like it was on ice. He tightened his hands on his steering wheel, and closed his eyes in a panic. He felt the car flip, his body lifting from his seat and smashing into the door. He felt the vehicle roll for a few minutes, the radio gave up playing the music, and he was suddenly surrounded by static. When his car finally came to a stop, his radio snapped back to life, but this time a new voice came from the speakers. _“And by gosh, I'm just pleased as punch that we will be having a scientist in town! Isn't that exciting Desert Bluffs, he's coming from Night Vale! How exciting is that? Now, remember that if you see him, give him a great big Desert Bluffs welcome! You know what that means! A big hug of course!”_

 

Carlos let his eyes open when his GPS announced he had arrived at his location, five hours later then it had promised. The world outside wasn't dark anymore, instead it was midday bright. He groped around until he found his glasses, pushing them back, and climbing out of his car. He found that he was parked carefully in front of a small hotel. His car, was still perfect, not a mark was made from whatever had happened to him. He took a breath, before making a note that clearly this place was like Night Vale. He reached into his car and turned off the engine. He looked around at the perfectly white town, it was impossibly clean and well kept. Behind him he hears a door open, and a voice call out to him.

 

“Are you Carlos?” a woman asks. He turned to look at her, and she smiles at him. His stomach ties into a knot when he sees her face. Her face is scarred and burnt, one of her eyes was missing, and covered over by thick scarring.

 

“Y-yes I am,” he answered.

 

“Oh wonderful!” she said. She hurried out the door and grabbed his hand, shaking it quickly. “Hello! Hello! Come inside! I will show you to your room! It's a lovely room! It really is. I set you up in my favourite room! It's beautiful!” she rambled. Carlos nodded at her, stunned and a little concerned. She continued to ramble at him, about how wonderful the knew room is. She handed him the key, after opening the door. She pushed him inside and then followed him. Carlos felt his stomach twist again, but this time he thought he was going to throw up.

 

“What is...” he started, but the woman cut him off.

 

“Isn't it just beautiful!” she said proudly. The walls of the hotel had clearly been white at some point, but there were layers of blood coating the walls now. Some dried dark and peeling away, other blood was freshly applied. Carlos realized that it was leaking from the ceiling, there must have been bodies in the room above him, causing there to be this much blood. He could see it dripping down from the ceiling, splashing in puddles on the floor. The hotel manager was talking about something, the bedding he thought, but he couldn't pay attention. There were organs spear around the room, some that he _knew_ were human others that he thought must be animals. Suddenly the woman had wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “You're going to love it here!” she told him.

 

She was leaving the room after that, closing the door behind her, and heading down the hall. She left Carlos alone in the room of horror, he did throw up when he went into the bathroom. There was a young woman, hanging above the bathtub, her stomach slit from her belly button up to her collar bone. Some of her organs had slipped or been pulled through the incision and were sitting in the bathtub. He threw up into a perfectly clean garbage can, he left the room after that, and decided that he would sleep in his car. His shoes were filled with gore, and when he got outside he removed them and his socks, he threw them into a trash can just outside.

 

He climbed back into his car, drove it until he found an open field. He parked the car, locked the doors, and climbed into the backseat. He grabbed for the file folder in his duffel bag, pulled out the stack of pictures of his old life, and held the close to his chest. He would never disagree with Cecil again, and made a mental note to find out what exactly made Steve Carlsberg such a jerk. He closed his eyes, as he tried to get comfortable on the backseat, and thought about Cecil pressed warm against him. He didn't manage to fall asleep, instead he thought of Cecil. The radio host looked so much like _his_ Cecil. The Cecil that had kissed him softly, and mumbled a promise that he wouldn't be gone to Night Vale that long.

 

_“I'm a reporter at heart,” he had said, kissing him again. “I can’t not report! I need to know more about this town. I figured that you would understand.” He had sounded so hurt, his blue eyes had looked so lost. Carlos could still feel himself wrapping his arms around Cecil's shoulders, and pulling him in for a tight hug. He could remember pressing kisses from his temple to his jaw._

 

_“I know, I know,” he had said, nuzzling against his neck. “I'll just miss you terribly.”_

 

_“My prefect, beautiful Carlos,” he had answered. His lips tugging up into a smile. Carlos laughed at his boyfriend, pushing him away and shaking his head._

 

_“Let's get your stuff into the car, and you had better call me as soon as you get there,” he had warned, as he lifted a suitcase from beside the stairs. Cecil grabbed the other and followed Carlos outside._

 

_“Of course I will call you! You think I could manage without hearing your voice?” he had said, and Carlos could hear him smirking behind him. The scientist tossed the suitcase into the trunk and then took the second one from his boyfriend._

 

 _“I don't think_ I _could manage without hearing your voice,” Carlos said._

 

_“Oh is that so?” Cecil asked and his smirk became a grin. “Maybe we should go inside and I'll make sure you have something to remember until I call.” He took Cecil's hand and pulled him back into the house. Cecil pressed up against his back, his hands wrapped around Carlos's waist. The two had tumbled through the house, shedding clothing as they went. Cecil wrapped himself around Carlos, pressing kisses to his skin and making hundreds of promises. They didn't leave the bed until it was dark out and even then they were hesitant to move._

 

_“I love you,” Carlos mumbled. Cecil smiled a little, and rolled onto his side to face the other man._

 

_“Why?” he asked._

 

_“Why?” Carlos repeated._

 

_“Mhmm, why do you love me dear, sweet Carlos?”_

 

_“Because you're perfect. Prefect hair. Prefect eyes. prefect voice. Prefect personality. Prefect everything,” he told him. He pressed a kiss to Cecil's lips each time he called him prefect, hoping to drive home his point. Cecil laughed softly, his smile made Carlos feel like he was going to melt._

 

_“When did you know you loved me?” he asked._

 

_“Do you remember that time you walked into the library at school, and you were reading out of your textbook. You were wearing those god awful furry pants, and you tripped over a bump in the carpet,” Carlos said. Cecil laughed and nodded his head._

 

_“Of course I remember that, I tripped and spilt boiling hot coffee all down the front of you!” Cecil said, “that's when we met you dumbo.”_

 

_“I know,” Carlos answered as he pulled Cecil closer to him. “I fell in love instantly.”_

 

Carlos shook his head, and blinked a few times. He realized that he was crying. He thought about the man back home, maybe just listening to the message he had left him. He thought about him moving around the lab making him government approved coffee. Whatever that meant. He wondered, and not for the first time, if he had perhaps died and Night Vale was some kind of weird hell that he had gone to. Maybe an even weirder kind of Heaven, because he was happy there after all. Happy for the first time in the five years since he had pulled into Night Vale for the first time and ran to the police station. Or, something that he was told was the police station.

 

Happy for the first time, since he was taken into the morgue where he had identified Cecil's lifeless body. Cold, pale, and bloody. His face torn off from being thrown from his car. His thoughts wondered away again. To the night after Cecil left, when he was sitting in the living room back home, when his phone had rang.

 

_“Hello, is this Carlos?” the voice had asked._

 

_“Yes, how can I help you?”_

 

 _“I'm calling from Night Vale general hospital,” the person had said._ Carlos couldn't even remember their gender, and now having been in Night Vale for over a year, he wondered if maybe they didn't have one at all.

 

_“Oh god, is this about Cecil?” he asked._

 

_“I'm afraid so,” the person told him. “He was in an accident, poor dear was awake just long enough to give us his emergency contact information. Died just minutes ago. Dreadful thing. Would you like to come collect him?” Carlos had dropped the phone, he had run from his home, gotten into his truck and driven for hours. He barely stopped and when he did he was panicked and angry. Then he was at the hospital, being told he needed to go to the police station._

 

_“He's not from town, so we moved him,” the woman behind the counter told him. She gave him direction and he was off running again. He remembered being there, he remembered going into the basement, and seeing Cecil. He remembered how hard he had cried. He even remembered a woman hugging him and telling him not to worry._

 

_“These things happen here,” she had said to him. “These things happen.”_

 

Carlos had payed for them to send Cecil's body home, he had organized his funeral because Cecil didn't have a family. Their friends attended and after it was over Carlos buried himself in his work, and then in information about Night Vale. Then when he had enough money saved from working, he packed up and moved. More people died in Night Vale then anywhere else in the country, a number that didn't make sense for a town that small. It made even less sense when he added in the fact that the United States government didn't recognize Night Vale as a real place, and most of the reported deaths happen to non locals. Carlos—while he had never told anyone, and rarely let himself acknowledge these thoughts—hoped that maybe, just maybe. Night Vale would kill him too.

 

 

_Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by listening to WTNV on the way home from vacation with a friend, and reading a post on Tumblr about how Cecil seems to be a very strong supporter of the Sheriff's Secret Police. So, I ended up day dreaming this to life. It's my first time really contributing to a fandom, and my first fic. All the mistakes are mine, it's unbetaed and all. I know I'm not a very good writer, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I just want to get this idea out and I hope that it works out well! 
> 
> Memories are written in italics.


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